


Dynamic

by TheRookieKing412



Series: Fakiru Week 2019 [6]
Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: F/M, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 14:36:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20816768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRookieKing412/pseuds/TheRookieKing412
Summary: Therapy AU. In which Fakir has some anger problems he needs to short out and Ahiru is just a temporary receptionist that's getting real tired of his bulls-





	1. Notebook

“I think it’s very brave of you to be here.”

He crossed his arms and looked away. 

“We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to talk about.” She shakes her head. 

His eyes dart to hers. 

“Let’s start with our names. Mine is Doctor Gardenia Schwan, but my friends call me Tutu.” 

“Tutu?”

“It’s a nickname from when I was a kid.” She smiles. “I was taking ballet with the man who would become my husband, and for the first year he didn’t know my name and just called me Tutu.”

He’s quiet, but he knows that he can’t go without telling her his name. “Basilio. Fakir.”

“Fakir.” she nods her head. “I do think it’s great you’re here, a person’s mental health is a very important thing, one that shouldn’t be ignored.”

“I haven’t ignored my mental health.”

Tutu hums. “Raetsel would have to disagree.” 

Fakir opens his mouth to argue but falls back against the couch instead. “Isn’t that a breach of patient confidentiality or something?” 

“Well, it was Raetsel who called and set this all up. She cares about you, Fakir, that’s not something to take lightly.” 

“Alright, well aren’t you going to ask about my troubled past or something?”

“I could, but I have the feeling that you're not going to tell me anything.” She chuckles lightly to herself. “No, I prefer to get to know you a bit first. It’s hard to talk about things you’ve walled up with a complete stranger. But I’m going to give you some homework.” She digs into her bag and hands him a cheap notebook. “You do not have to share this with anyone, but I want you to write down everything that you think you’d like to tell me about; then, when you’re ready you can tell it to me.” Tutu shrugs and smiles. “Well I’m glad we spent that first half hour in complete silence, but why don’t we meet in two weeks? Maybe next time I’ll get more out of you.” 

Tutu smiles and stands and holds her hand out to Fakir and he takes it begrudgingly. 

Fakir is a man who had lost a lot, he had built some walls, walls he never planned on tearing down, walls that didn’t have a gate. He didn’t let anyone too close. 

Raetsel and Charon, the people who raised him after his parent’s death, only knew a small part of him. 

Fakir wished he had the strength to let his walls down for them, but whenever he did, there was a pang of fear, and he would turn away. 

He’d lash out in anger. 

It was why Raetsel, who loved him dearly, had sent him here. 

But he couldn’t help but feel like she was calling him crazy, so after he left the office, he was sure that all this first meeting did was rile him up and put him on edge. 

He stepped out into the waiting room and knocking at the separation glass while the receptionist was on a call. 

She opened the glass. “One moment, please.” She smiled at him although he watched her flinch and that smile faltered. She shut the glass again and finished the call. 

Damn, did he really look that scary? He swallowed and did his best to calm his features. 

He knocked on the glass again, she gave him an apologetic smile and opened it. 

“How was your appointment.”

“Just fine.” He let out a weary sigh. “She told me to make an appointment two weeks out.” 

The girl smiled and looked in their appointment book. “Would you like the same time?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay.” She smiled brightly as she wrote down his appointment on a little card and handed it to him. “Alright, it’s all set up, we’ll see you in two weeks.”

He snatched the card from her and walked out of the office. 

* * *

“Hello, welcome back.”

Fakir nodded at the girl, doubting she actually remembered him. He signed in and took a seat. 

“Did you do the homework?”

Fakir narrowed his eyebrows and looked at her, he moved the cheap notebook to his other side. “What’s it do you if I did?” He said roughly. 

She shrugged. “Tutu usually assigns homework and I saw the notebook last time.” 

She seemed rather cavalier. 

Based on her tiny size, her wide innocent eyes, and the way she smiled, Fakir pegged her as the kind of girl that would cower in fright at the mere sight of him. 

But she didn’t seem to care. 

She didn’t seem to care that he was glaring at her, that his body language should have told her  _ run _ , that his tone was rising in irritation. 

“Yes, I did. I don’t suppose you want to read it now, too?”

“I’m sure that whatever you’ve written down is really interesting, but I try to let Tutu do the counseling.” 

“Hmm.” He hummed, but Tutu opened the door and called him back. 

Sitting on the couch again, he was quiet for a long time before he produced the notebook.

“I wrote everything down.” He said. 

Tutu smiles. “That’s good. And whenever you’re ready, we can open up that book together. Go page by page until it’s all out.” 

It sounded like she was asking to lay his heart bare, and that was something he had never done for anyone. 

“Sure.”

* * *

“Raetsel, are you sure this is the best thing for me?” 

Fakir sat outside in the sunlight, a cup of coffee in his hand. It was nearing November and it was getting colder, and while the sun warmed his face, the light breeze kept him zipped inside his jacket. 

Raetsel sipped slowly at a cup of tea, one leg crossed over the other and smiled at him lazily. “Fakir, of course this is the best thing for you, I even go to therapy.”

“How are you not any better then?” 

“Oh stop it.” Raetsel giggled, “I’ve been under a lot of stress lately, what with Karon going back to school, and it’s just nice to sit and talk with someone.”

“Isn’t that what a husband’s for?” 

Raetsel nudged his shin with her foot. “No, it’s unfair to just unload everything onto his shoulders, and sometimes he doesn’t always know what to do. Tutu does. Tutu always does, and she gave me a cute little notebook and if I’m feeling stressed before my appointment, I write it all down and then go see her and we go through everything together.”

He hummed to show agreement, that he was listening. 

“I think this will be a good thing for you.” She reached across the table and gripped his shoulder. 

* * *

Fakir was walking through the store, grabbing some things for Raetsel’s party, she always threw one for Halloween and dragged Fakir into helping. 

Either in decoration, cleaning, getting drinks, making the playlist, or, like in this case, getting chips. 

“How many does she even need?” He grumbled before crumpling the paper back into his pocket. 

“Excuse me- oh! It’s you.” 

Fakir turned around and looked at the receptionist. “Do you need something?”

“Oh, um yes! One of our patients is having a party tonight and wanted to invite me, she told me to get some chips. Oh! But don’t tell anyone, we’re not really supposed to be involved in our patient's outside life. Well, I guess just Tutu, since she’s their doctor after all.” She smiled up at him. 

Goddamnit. 

“You’re going to Raetsel’s annual Halloween party?” 

She gasped and grinned. “You know, Raetsel too?”

“She’s my sister.” 

“Oh, did she recommend you to Tutu?” 

Fakir grabbed what he was sure were all the chips and started to move out of the way, but that little receptionist grabbed a bag of pretzels and quickly caught up with him. 

He nodded. 

“I realized we’ve never exchanged names. I mean, I know your name because I schedule your appointments, but we’ve never properly exchanged names.” She shifted the giant bag of pretzels to one arm and stuck out the one closest to him. “I’m Ahiru Alder.”

He took her hand, still pushing the cart with the other. “Fakir Basilio. Listen, I understand that you’re just being polite, but I’m not going to therapy to make friends, and I’m not going to this party to hang out, I’m going because Raetsel will skin me if I don’t. I’ll stay for an hour and leave.” He got to the line and pushed her forward, letting her put her 20 pound bag of pretzels on the belt before his cartload of chips. “I don’t plan on talking to anyone, much less you.”

Her smile fades, and she turns away from him, her bag of pretzels scanned and bought before she turns back on him with a vicious glare, one that rivaled his own.

“Well- I don’t really want to talk to a jerk like you anyway!” She picked up her bag of pretzels and stomped out of the store. 

“Lover’s quarrel?” The cashier asked, but blanched after Fakir turned an icy glare to him. 

“I don’t know her.” 

* * *

The party was more difficult than it should have been. 

Apparently Ahiru had went around the party goers introducing herself and making great friends with everybody, meaning that anyone he approached asked if he had met Ahiru. 

And Ahiru tattled too.

As soon as he stepped through the door, Raetsel turned on him, her hands on her hips, there was costume blood dripping down the corners of her lips. 

She gave him a sound scolding that her son Karon seemed to enjoy too much.

He sipped at punch, leaning against a wall and sending her a scowl.

Sensing it, she looked over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at him.

* * *

He knocked on the glass. “Hey, I know you’re not on the phone, I need to schedule my next appointment.”

“And why should I?” She asked, opening the glass and shutting it as soon as she was done. 

Perhaps it wasn’t in his best interest to make an enemy of her. 

“I’ll get Tutu out here.”

The glass opened. “She’s with a patient.” She closed the glass. 

“So wouldn’t that make it much worse?”

She inhaled a sharp breath and he smirked because he knew he had won.

He watched as her jaw clenched and she opened the appointment book. “Same time?”

“Same time.”

She penciled in the appointment and wrote a reminder card, she opened the glass and slapped it onto the counter. 

“Thank you.” She gave him a large grin and batted her eyes at him. 

“You’re welcome.” He put the card in his wallet. 

* * *

He looked down at the notebook he had written in, it was filled now. 

Every time he dug up a bad memory, either of the accident, of the funeral, of times he lashed out at Raetsel or Charon, the day they lost Charon and he felt even more alone. 

He hadn’t told Tutu any of it. He had been going for several months and their appointments consisted of him laying down on the couch while Tutu talked about something. 

Today she was talking about Ahiru. 

Tutu sat cross legged, dipping a tea bag in and out of a mug. “She’s only here while Rue is on maternity leave, tell me, how is she doing? I don’t really get to see her in action.” 

Tutu and Ahiru were sisters, twelve years apart. 

He could see the resemblance and wondered why he hadn’t connected it before. 

They had the same strange shade of hair, almost salmon in color, but not like any red he had seen, bright blue eyes, a pinky complexion. The only difference was that Ahiru had a sprinkling of freckles across her nose.

He couldn’t speak poorly of Tutu’s sister, however. All the rudeness she had shown him was earned. 

“She does well.” He admits. “She’s quick in her scheduling and is always polite and pleasant.” 

Tutu hums and sips her tea. “What about you, do you have any siblings?”

“Raetsel, although I’m not sure she counts.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“She’s not a blood relative. Charon was a kind man, with good friends who died too soon. He took Raetsel in for the same reason he took me in.”

“And what reason was that?”

Fakir smirked, he was smart enough to see what she was doing. “Both of our parents died.” 

Tutu nodded, she would have known because Raetsel would have told her. 

“I’ve known her since I was four, we lived together, but she’s five years older than me, so she left for college sooner. She got married, had a child.”

“Does it feel like she’s left you behind?” 

Sometimes it did, he had to admit. She was his only family, and now she was off having a family of her own while he was still alone. 

He closed his eyes and gave a heavy breath. “Sometimes.” He admitted.

* * *

He was stepping out of Tutu’s office when he saw her, carrying some papers before going back into her little glass box. 

“Hey.” He called. 

And she stopped, she looked over her shoulder, and gave him a glare before continuing. 

“Hey.” He furrowed his eyebrows and chased after her, he grabbed her wrist and pulled until she was turned around and facing him. 

She struggled against his hand, but he had a large hand, and she had a small wrist, she couldn’t break out no matter how hard she tried. 

“What do you want?” She settled for stepping up to him, sending him a hearty glare.

“How much has Raetsel told you about me?” 

His heart thundered in his chest, and perhaps it wasn’t fair, but he remembered the other day, passing by the coffee house Raetsel frequented and stopping when he saw Raetsel and Ahiru sitting outside and laughing. 

Raetsel looked over at him, laughed a little harder and tried to call him over. 

And he would have, but Ahiru turned her eyes on him and she started laughing again too. 

Ahiru stomped on his foot, but he didn’t let go, only grimacing slightly. 

“Raetsel didn’t tell me anything!” She was finally able to rip her hand away and took several steps back. “She only told me about when you were five you would put your clothes on backwards to make her laugh! Although I can’t imagine how a young boy who cares about the happiness of his sister could turn into a harsh man like you!” 

She turned and sped off, slamming the door behind her. 

“Fuck.” Fakir whispered under his breath.

He still had to make an appointment. 

* * *

He growled into the phone, “How am I supposed to know where it is? I can’t find it anywhere!” 

“Well, go over everywhere you went today.”

Fakir wiped at his face, but then he remembered, he was at therapy. Ahiru had stopped giving him reminder cards, only telling him his appointment was scheduled for two weeks out, same time. 

It was late, and he hoped Tutu was the kind of person who stayed late doing work. 

* * *

He knocked on the glass, there was a light inside, but he was surprised at who was still there. 

Ahiru. 

She unlocked the door and opened it, but stood in the way with on hand on her hip. “Do you need something?”

“I lost my wallet, can I look around.”

She huffed and stepped out of the way, but followed him as he looked around the office. 

“You’re not the type to lose your wallet.” She remarked, and she was right. He wasn’t.

Which was why this was so infuriating. 

“No, I’m not.” 

He looked under the chairs in the waiting room. 

“Can I check her office?”

Ahiru nodded. “But be quick, and I’ll be watching you.”

“I’m not going to take anything.”

“You could look at other paitent’s files.” 

She was walking so closely behind him that when he stopped to turn on her, she marched straight into his back. 

“I don’t know what your problem is-”

“My problem?”

“-but I’m not here to look at other people’s business!”

“Oh even Raetsel’s? You don’t want to know what she says about you?”

“No, because Raetsel is very verbal, and I already know what she has to say about me.” 

His hand was on the door but he could hear her breathing angrily behind him, and he would do anything to get her to go away. 

“I wouldn’t put it past you.” 

“You know nothing about me.”

“True, but I know your type.”

“My type?”

“Dark and mysterious, a jerk who thinks he’s better than everyone, thinks he can just do whatever he wants.”

He turned a glare over his shoulder, her arms were crossed, her eyebrows furrowed, her mouth a firm line. 

“You can’t push me around!”

He wanted to push her, just to prove her wrong. 

“The next time you accuse me of looking at other patient’s files, you’ll remember this.” He took her clenched hands and pushed her against the wall, leaning down so he was eye level with her.

She wasn’t scared, she was in quite the predicament, trapped in the arms of a much stronger man. She glared back at him, and it was a more forceful glare than his, he could feel his eyes soften, the hard line that were his lips open in confusion.

Her eyes darted across his face, watching his countenance lessen.

“Let me go.” She demanded. 

And he should have, he had no right to lay his hands on this girl.

“I’m not any of the things you accuse me of.” He whispers, and suddenly he wishes that she knew him. 

He closed his eyes and let her wrists go. He moved away and opened the office door, he knelt down and looked under the couch. 

There was his wallet.

* * *

He knocked on the glass. “How are you?”

She blinked up at him. “Fine.”

He cleared his throat. “Do you have plans for the holidays?” 

“No, just having dinner with Tutu. I haven’t decided if I want to invite Rue and Mytho over or not, but she’s nearing the end of her pregnancy and will pop any day now-” She paused, she side eyed him before looking back at her computer. “Not that you care.”

“I asked, didn’t I?” 

She looked back at him and straightened her back. 

“Once Rue comes back, where are you going to go?”

“Well.” Ahiru bit her lip. “I don’t know. I guess I have to start looking for jobs again.” 

The door opened and he was ushered back.

* * *

He stood at the door again, the light still on and Ahiru working at her computer. 

He knocked, she opened the door. 

“I left my wallet again.”

She nodded and let him, still following him, but this time not out of suspicion, but curiosity.

He stood from the couch and put his wallet in his back pocket. 

She was leaning against the door frame and when he looked over at her, he held his breath.

He was used to seeing her in business formal, her hair held back in a bun at the nape of her neck. 

But she had abandoned her blazer, only wearing a pencil skirt and blue tank top, she had taken all the pins out of her hair and it flowed freely down her back. 

“I have a question.” She said. 

Fakir nodded, telling her to go ahead. 

She stepped into the room and shut the door. “Why-” She bit her bottom lip. “Why have you been so nice to me lately?” 

Fakir put a hand on the couch arm, he didn’t really have an answer. 

“I don’t know.”

She stepped forward until she was only inches away. “That’s not an answer. It’s a simple question and I think I deserve to know the answer.”

“It’s not a simple answer.”

She pursed her lips and fisted her hands on her hips. “Then start explaining.”

He let his eyes soften again, he reached out and touched his knuckles to her jaw.

Her lips parted and her eyes softened, apparently just a touch was enough.

He leaned down and captured her lips with his. 

She melted, if just for a second, before pulling away, a look of anger in her eye, she pushed him and he fell on the couch. 

* * *

“So I will be buying a new couch.”

“You better! I’m not buying it.”

* * *

“Please? I’m allowed to have someone come in with me.”

Ahiru crossed her arms. “I’m the receptionist, I have to stay out here and recept.” 

“I know. But Rue comes back before my next appointment.” He took her hand, and she tried to argue but she couldn’t. 

“Fine.” 

He smiled at her, and held her hand for a while longer until someone else came inside.

* * *

Tutu smiled at Fakir and her baby sister as they sat next to each other on the couch. 

Fakir took out his notebook and opened the first page, Ahiru put her hand on his thigh and some of the tension left his shoulders as he read through the first page. 

* * *

With Ahiru in the room, he felt comfortable, and so long as she touched him, he didn’t feel so nervous.

In a few appointments, he was able to lay his heart bare to Tutu and she helped him come to terms with everything, even the loss of his parents, something he didn’t know he still had to let go of. 

It had been one year since his first appointment that he was finally able to tell Tutu everything he had written down. 

Ahiru staying by his side the entire time. 

He set an appointment with Rue as Tutu walked into the glass box, setting some papers on the scanner. 

“Oh wait.” Ahiru pulled at his hand. “Remember, we have to change the appointment time.” 

“Oh? You think my world revolves around you?” Fakir teased. 

She smiled. “Yes.” 

He chuckled because he knew she was right and let her set up the next appointment. 

They walked out of the office and Tutu turned to Rue. 

“They have an interesting dynamic, don’t they?”


	2. Couch

He kissed her and her immediate response was to push him away. 

Fakir was nice enough to stay sprawled on the couch. One leg hanging over, he leaned back on his elbows and looked over at her, waiting for her to make the first move. 

And she wasn’t sure what her move was going to be.

She was pretty sure she wanted to punch him.

Fakir Basilio was a man who confused her like no other. 

When he first came to the office, she tried to be as nice as she could be, a smile and a thank you. 

Like a real lady!

But he was the one who glared down at her. He was the one who was so rude and mean all the time. He was the one that said he didn’t want to talk to her, and she wasn’t going to just sit down and take it!

So she was mean right back. 

It seemed fair. 

But then that day came…

She had done nothing when suddenly he pinned her to the wall, his sharp green eyes keeping her there just as much as his hands were, and then they weren’t so sharp anymore. 

They were almost…

Sad.

She had to admit, she may have been too mean.

The next time he came, he didn’t glare (he didn’t smile either!) accepted the card she gave him and said thank you. The appointment after that he made sure to ask a question. 

“How are you?”

“Do you like working here?”

“What are your plans for the holidays?” 

Once he even asked her if she was going to see the ballet that was being put on at the local theater. And that question made her pause, because she loved ballet, and how could he possibly know that? 

Of course she was seeing it, and of course she told him how excited she was to see it, and she started to feel light and bubbly because how could she not when she was talking about ballet?

But then she remembered who she was talking to, one when she looked up at him, there was a slight smile on his lips, like this was what he was after.

She blushed.

She blushes now.

And she’s still confused. 

What does she think of Fakir?

She rushes forward and punches him in the chest.

“Ow.” He says, his hand coming up and touching the spot where she laid her hand on him. “I deserved that.”

“Yes! You do!” She clenches her jaw, her fists, she’s rigid and ready for him to scowl and scold and-

He lifts his hand again touches her face. “Ahiru…” He says and it’s so soft, again. And she has no idea what to do.

She grabs his hand and pins it against the couch.

“Stop it!” She cries. “I’m trying to think!”

She’s leaning over him, his wrist held overhead, and she puts her other hand on the couch to steady herself. Her hair falls over her shoulder and he reaches out to touch it, to run his fingers through her hair.

She pouts and grabs his hand and puts it with the other. “Stop it!” She’s breathing heavily, and she almost loses her balance with both her hands holding Fakir at bay. 

She puts her knee on the couch.

He likes her.

It’s the only thought she can process. 

The way he looks at her; with that smile and his harsh features smooth out, all he wants to do right now is touch her and she wants to let him. 

But she doesn’t want to give in until she’s sure too. 

Her knee hurts. 

Ahiru bites her lip and adjusts herself, seating herself on Fakir’s waist, straddling him. 

“Wait.” She says. Her heart is pounding like a drum and her eyes flutter over his features as he nods, giving her time to adjust. 

She lets one wrist go and let’s her hand float down to touch his face. He’s so warm. 

He keeps his hand on the couch’s arm, holding himself back. 

The tips of her fingers make their way down his jaw, his throat. She stops at the edge of his shirt collar, and when she presses the palm of her hand against his chest she can feel his breathing, trying to steady himself. 

What did she think of him?

She thought of him as a friend, someone who cared about her, who learned to come to care about her. 

He was kinder now, gentler, and she was sure it’s because something changed in him, and as she fiddles with the buttons of his shirt, she can’t help but wonder if something in her changed too.

She felt like she was back to her normal self, ladylike, showing him proper manners, but more than that, she felt like herself.

She was able to get excited about ballet with him, he let her ramble on until it was time for his appointment or someone new came in, she was able to abandon the business professional attitude she showed to the rest of the patients, and was just herself. 

And then he kissed her. 

And God did she want him to do it again.

“Wait.” She said again, but she wasn’t sure who she said it to. Fakir or herself.

He couldn’t restrain himself any longer and lifted his free hand to touch her cheek and she leaned so heavily into it, she thought she’d fall off the couch. 

She opened her eyes slowly and peered down at him.

She leaned down slowly, letting go of his other hand, she balanced herself on his chest. 

Ahiru’s face was merely inches away from his, and she couldn’t decide where to look, his lips or his eyes? 

The hand on her cheek threaded its way into her hair, and his other hand took to caressing her jaw. 

She could kiss him, fall into a world of bliss, or she could let go. Get off the couch and go back to her life, the way things were before… 

Before she straddled Fakir on a couch, Tutu’s couch. Tutu’s therapy couch.

She hadn’t planned this. She was fresh out of college. Determined to live life to the fullest, make her way in the world as successfully as her sister had, and a man wasn’t part of that plan. 

Not so soon, anyway.

Later, once she was secure. Not now.

But her heart ached for the slight attention he showed her, her skin warming at the touch of his hand. He’d give anything to touch her, and she’d let him. 

All Fakir had to do was lift his head just an inch and his lips would press against hers.

But he waited for her. 

“Fakir?”

“Yes?”

Ahiru bites her lip. “Do you love me?”

He’s silent, and the fingers in her hair twist. “I don’t know. But… when I look at you…” he groans. “I built walls around my heart, and I never intended to let them down for anybody. But you’re tearing them down brick by brick and I can’t help but let you. When I look at you, I feel stronger. When I look at you, I don’t need to keep those walls up; I know you’re not going to hurt me.” 

She pulls back, her eyes darting to his heart, held under her hands, and watches as he closes his eyes. 

He’s laid himself bare. 

Ahiru thinks she could make room for him in her plan.

Her lips are on his in a second, and all she can think about is how his lips move against hers, how his tongue darts out to chase hers, how his fingers tighten in her hair, holding her there. 

Kissing him is unlike anything else she’s experienced. 

She’s kissed before, when she was young, it was sloppy and kind of gross, and when she was a bit older, and had more experience under her belt, it was better. 

But this was different. 

She didn’t think that emotions had such a large play in how well a kiss is received. 

She could say that she liked everyone she had kissed, and that everyone she had kissed had liked her. 

She couldn’t say that she loved Fakir, because she wasn’t sure if she loved him, but God was this kiss emotionally charged. 

When she had first met him, she could have easily told anyone that he was a no good, jerk, with little manners and she would have nothing to do with him except scheduling his next appointment. 

And he didn’t get better!

At the store he was positively vicious and it had sent her home fuming, complaining first to her roommates and then to her sister. 

It wasn’t until that late night in the hallway that he had changed. 

Grabbing her wrist like that and shoving her against the wall and then the next week he comes in and ask her how she is?

Hmmph! 

How dare he! 

He opens his mouth, taking in her bottom lip and sucking it. 

She liked him better now that he was nice, she liked that he would just listen to her talk, and if he ever made a sassy remark, and she took offense, he would smirk at her until she realized he was joshing her. 

Which wasn’t funny!

She can’t stop herself from giggling into his mouth when one hand travels down to rest on her calf. She can tell that he wants to flip her over so that he has control over what’s going on.

But she smirks. 

She likes him just where he is. 

She wonders which one the real him is: the mannerless jerk or the sweet man that listens to her ramble. 

She likes to think it’s both. 

That he’s somewhere in between, that he’s nice, but not in the same way she is. He isn’t afraid to stand up to those he doesn’t like, to not give respect to those he doesn’t think deserve respect, to threaten those who he thinks are going to hurt him.

He’s brave, and that makes her braver. 

She wiggles her hips slightly, enjoying the moan that he releases into her mouth. 

Ahiru breaks their kiss and sits up straight, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

She looks down at him, his cheeks a bit red, though she’s sure hers are too. His thumbs rub circles onto her calves, both hands having traveled down to touch the bare skin. 

She starts slowly, circling her hips over his, and she watches his breath hitch, his eyes flutter closed; he throws back his head. 

She always thought she was looking for someone like Mytho and Seigfried, Rue and Tutu’s husbands, respectively. Kind, handsome, charming, sweet. 

She watches his Adam’s apple bob, his lips start to part. 

She wonders how much more of this he’ll be able to take. 

Fakir isn’t like either of them at first glance, he’s rougher, he’s snarkier, he’s rude.

But she brought his walls down, and with it a second, deeper glance. 

He was kind.

She made a sharp thrust and she hears him moaning her name, his fingers dig into her calves, they start traveling up. 

He was kind enough to ask about her interests, to find out what they were and why she liked them. Not even her last date did that. 

He was handsome, although that wasn’t something she needed convincing of. 

Her hands reaching out to the buttons on his shirt, determined to keep the slow movement of her hips. 

He had a strong jaw, and gorgeous eyes, and when he smiled, God when he smiled it was like looking up at the full moon on a cold, dark night. 

He was charming. 

His hands made their way up her thighs, under her skirt, he was rising to the challenge now. 

She couldn’t explain it, but he was. In a different way than the Schwan brothers, but with every small smile, every silent fascination he took of her, the short transition of his jerkishness to a knight in shining armor. Yes, that was the difference, Mytho and Seig were like two princes, but Fakir was- 

She let out a groan when her hips slid lower and she rubbed against his hardened length. Her skirt around her waist now, and his jeans still on. 

He was sweet. 

Fakir shot up, grabbing her chin and forcing her into a rough kiss as the other pushed the fabric of her underwear to the side.

The buttons on his shirt all undone, Ahiru raised her hands to push the fabric off his shoulders, and he shrugged out of it, discarding on the floor. 

His teeth bit her bottom lip as his hands switched over to her shirt, pulling it over her head, breaking their kiss for just a second before capturing her lips again.

She’d like to think she had fallen for him for his kindness and sweetness, his manners and chivalry. 

But she hadn’t. 

Ahiru moved her weight to her knees, working on his button and the zipper as his hand found it’s way back between her legs. 

She had fallen for the rough edges that scrapped her shoulders as she reached to take up his heart in her hands just as much as she had fallen in love with his warmth. 

She gasped sharply, smacking a hand over her mouth. 

Fakir looked up at her, an eyebrow quirked, and a hand was quick to touch her face. “Are you alright?”

She looked into his eyes and nodded. “Yes.” she whispers. “You like me?”

He chuckles. “Yes, I do.”

Ahiru nods her head. “You do.” She says, as if to reassure herself. “I like you, too.”

He gives her that small smile, that lights up the nighttime sky and presses his forehead to hers. 

She reaches down, pulling his length out and strokes him up and down. 

He’s kissing her again, slower this time. 

Ahiru adjusts herself until she’s over him and lowers herself down onto him, trying to hide her smile when he moans. 

She puts her hands on his shoulders and pushes him down until he’s lying on the couch again and starts as slowly as she had before. 

She finds her rhythm quickly, and her movements pick up the pace. 

Ahiru moans when he starts thrusting, too. Meeting her with his hips. 

Her hands are planted on his chest, to balance herself, her plan to go faster faltered when suddenly he’s going faster and she can’t stop herself from arching back, and just letting herself get penetrated over and over, her body bouncing slightly as his hips meet hers. 

She decides to take back the reins and circles her hips, giving him more than simple thrusts. She circles her waist, letting her hips follow and letting the movement give Fakir a different feeling. 

He bucks his hips wildly, with a sharp grunt and she retaliates, she digs her hand into his hair before pulling him up onto his elbows and kissing him, she darts out her tongue, mimicking the movement her waist is making. 

It was nice to catch him off guard, feeling his thundering heart as her chest pressed against his, but she forgot that Fakir wasn’t the kind of man to just take what was given to him. 

He grabbed her ass, pulling her down and bucking into her sharply. 

She moaned into his mouth, not unsurprised when his other hand fisted into her hair, stealing her ability to pull away as his sharp hips plowed away. 

It didn’t take much longer for her to reach climax, she moaned into his mouth again, and it didn’t take much more coaxing to get him to follow her. 

His grip on her hair loosened, and breaking the kiss, she fell against his chest. 

She could have stayed there the rest of the night, but when she tried to roll off him, and fell onto the floor instead, she almost screamed.

“We-! I just-!” She clapped a hand to her mouth to stop herself from getting any louder as Fakir peered down at her with the slightest bit of confusion in his eyes. 

She got up to her knees, fixing her skirt, she grabbed Fakir’s hand and laid her head down on his chest. “We just had sex on Tutu’s therapy couch.” She whined. 

“Oh.” 

“We have to buy a new one.”

“We can just get it cleaned.” He tells her, his hand petting her hair. 

“No! I’ll never be able to look at it the same way! I’ll have a guilty conscious telling patients to go in and have a seat on this couch!” 

He chuckles. “Alright, we’ll buy a new couch.”

“You’ll buy a new couch.” She pouts, she can’t afford to buy a couch, she’s a fresh out of college 22-year-old-lady, she doesn’t even have a hundred dollars in her bank account. “Besides this was your idea.”

“My idea? I just kissed you.”

“Which you didn’t have to do!” 

“You’re the one who-”

“Shh!” She hides her face in his stomach, because she’s sure that it wasn’t his intention to get her to have sex with him. 

He laughs and sits up, her head falling into his lap. He brushes the hair out of her face. “Thank you.”

She blushes and looks away again.

“I’ve never-” He clears his throat, his face a little red again.

“Really? Me neither!” She smiles up at him. 

“That was your first time and you-” He touches her cheek. “Are you okay?”

She giggles, it only hurt for a second. “Yes.”

He smiles.

“So I will be buying a new couch.”

“You better! I’m not buying it.”

Fakir picks her head off his lap and kisses her again. 


End file.
